


Nice Things (Clint Can Has)

by somanyopentabs



Category: The Avengers (2012)
Genre: Arguing, Established Relationship, First Fight, Insecurity, M/M, Makeup
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-25
Updated: 2012-09-25
Packaged: 2017-11-15 00:32:09
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,262
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/521148
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/somanyopentabs/pseuds/somanyopentabs
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A quick fic about what Clint and Bruce's first fight as a couple might be like.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Nice Things (Clint Can Has)

Bruce sighed and set his glasses down on the lab counter. He let himself slump low against the wall as he ineffectually rubbed the bridge of his nose. The tension built up in his head was clearly psychosomatic. The pain had started that afternoon, when he and Clint had parted ways in a shouting match that ended with Clint flinching like he’d been slapped—he hadn’t, Bruce would never dream of doing something like that—and with Bruce retreating into his lab.

It was their first fight since they’d gotten together. It hadn’t been long at all, actually. Just a few short weeks since Bruce had finally noticed Clint’s cautious advances and taken him up on a dinner invitation. Clint had been uncharacteristically shy at first, too. Clint had kept his hands to himself until Bruce took it upon himself to cup Clint’s face in his hands and kiss him square on the mouth, so that there was no mistaking that Bruce _wanted_ him.

Clint had kissed back tenderly, his blue eyes blinking wondrously when their lips parted, as if he could scarcely believe that Bruce had taken the initiative. Bruce found himself treating Clint so gently then, holding his hands even as they made love for the first time.

Thinking back to how Clint had responded to that previous tenderness made Bruce berate himself now. How could he have verbally lashed out so harshly?

Bruce had been upset over Clint’s latest mission. Clint had just finished getting treatment from medical, having had come back with more than a few new wounds, and Bruce—well, Bruce just hadn’t been _thinking_. He pressed Clint for details-- _how had he turned out so bruised and beaten? Wasn’t he following the mission parameters? How could he let that happen to himself?_

Clint immediately went on the defensive, refusing to explain and basically shutting down communication between them. He crossed his arms and bowed his head—if Bruce had been paying more attention at the time, he might have realized then that Clint looked close to tears.

That was when Bruce shouted at Clint to stop giving him the silent treatment or get out, and Clint flinched, clearly taken aback at Bruce’s raised voice. Bruce had never yelled at Clint before, and he instantly regretted it. Clint yelled back that he wasn’t going to stay where he wasn’t _wanted_ , and that was when he’d left.

Bruce felt like the biggest jerk in the world.

Never mind that Bruce hadn’t been close to transforming; there was just no excuse for treating his boyfriend like that. Clint wasn’t afraid of the Hulk—he never had been. No, that flinch hadn’t been directed at the monster inside of Bruce, but at Bruce himself. His fallible, human self. And for that, Bruce felt terrible. He never wanted Clint to look at him that way again. There had been so much hurt in Clint’s eyes, like Bruce was just another man in Clint’s life who had failed him, who didn’t trust him.

And it wasn’t that Bruce didn’t trust Clint. He knew, without a doubt, that Clint was the best, the very best, at what he did. But seeing Clint come out of medical still bandaged up made Bruce afraid for him.

He needed to find Clint and apologize, even if it was too late to salvage things. He couldn’t, in good conscience, leave Clint to his own devices. Clint tended to blame himself even for things that weren’t his fault.

Bruce picked his glasses back up and set off, determined to find his distraught lover. Bruce checked the archery range out of habit, but somehow he knew Clint wouldn’t be there. When Clint didn’t want to be found, the range was the last place he would go, for the simple fact that the range was the first place anyone ever looked for him.

Clint wasn’t on top of the building, and he didn’t answer the door to his floor when Bruce knocked, so either he wasn’t there, or he wasn’t answering. Bruce had one more place to check before he would resort to asking JARVIS. 

Clint answered Natasha’s door at the third knock. His eyes looked red around the rims, and even if Bruce knew better than to think that Clint would just let himself cry, it was obvious that Clint had at least been fighting off tears. His face was still lightly flushed with emotion, and his voice was hoarse when he asked Bruce what he wanted.

“Can we talk somewhere? I just...I just want to apologize,” Bruce said softly. His heart broke at the sight of Clint looking like that because of _him_.

Clint shrugged. “Let’s do this at my place, then.” He followed Bruce back to the elevator and they rode up to Clint’s floor in silence. 

Bruce waited until they were safely inside Clint’s apartment to say, “I’m sorry. I _really_ am. I don’t know what I was thinking. I mean, I really wasn’t thinking at all.”

Clint let out a breath and said, “Okay.” He sat down on his living room sofa and nodded for Bruce to sit down as well.

“It wasn’t my place to say any of that,” Bruce continued as he sat and faced Clint, trying to catch his eyes. “You know what you’re doing in the field, and I know that. I don’t like seeing you hurt, but that's no excuse for what I said.”

“I’m fine. I didn’t even get roughed up that much. I’ve had worse,” Clint pointed out. His eyes still refused to meet Bruce’s, however.

“I’m sorry,” Bruce said again. He didn’t know what else to say; he only knew that he needed to make this better, somehow.

“It’s okay. Probably was a little bit my fault anyway. I guess I could have done better or something. Just, don’t be mad at me anymore?” Clint glimpsed up briefly, and Bruce caught a little glimmer of hope in his blue eyes before he looked down at the floor again.

“I’m not mad at you. I’m mad at myself. I shouldn’t have reacted like that,” Bruce explained. _Oh, Clint. Did he really think so low of himself?_

Clint bit his lip, and finally met Bruce’s eyes. “I’ll probably get hurt again in the future. I’m not going to stop going on dangerous missions.”

Bruce winced. “I’m not asking you to stop. I overreacted.”

“I make mistakes,” Clint went on. “I don’t always make the right call. But I’ve survived this long, so...”

“Clint—“

“I don’t want to break up,” Clint blurted out quickly. “Can we maybe just pretend that this didn’t happen? Because this relationship is one of the first nice things to happen to me in a while, and to be really honest, the only thing that kept me going through that last round of torture was imagining coming home to _you_ , and even if you don’t feel the same way I just really wish you’d take me to bed one last time...”

“Clint, stop—“

“Bruce, please...?” Clint’s eyes were shining wetly, beseeching, and Bruce’s heart was beating fiercely as he reached out to grasp Clint’s hands in his.

“It’s just a fight, Clint. All couples do this,” Bruce reassured him, kissing his fingertips and holding his hands tightly.

The shocked look on Clint’s face transformed into a weak smile. “Couples?”

“Yeah.” Bruce leaned over to kiss Clint sweetly on the lips, a gesture that was reciprocated eagerly.

“A couple,” Clint said the words almost reverently when they broke apart. “I like the sound of that.”

 

 

 

\--end


End file.
